After Roswell: Continued
by Dunno12345
Summary: They've left Roswell, with no idea of where to go or what to do next. They have only one objective: get away. But it's not as easy as it seems. Maybe they had it wrong; maybe you can overturn the odds. You might even be able to outrun your past. But there is one thing you can't outrun, however hard you try. However hard you wish otherwise. Yourself. (Predominately M/M)
1. One

_-ONE-_

 _"If I go crazy, then will you still call me Superman? If I'm alive and well, will you be there holding my hand?"_

Michael leaned his head against the seat and stared up at the dingy ceiling of the hunkered old van. "I'm gonna kill him," he said, as Kyle continued his serenade in the front, hands thrumming against the top of the wheel.

As if to test his luck, Kyle leaned over to Michael. "Come on, Guerin. _'I'll keep you by my side, with my superhuman might. Kryptonite!'"_

Michael rolled his head just enough to glower back at him. "I'm giving you a warning, Valenti."

Kyle smirked and drew in a deep breath. He splayed a hand over his heart. "It really resonates with you on a deeply _personal_ level, doesn't it?"

"You wanna walk the rest of the way?"

In the back, Maria let out a sound of annoyance as she sat up just enough to glare at the two men in the front of the van. "Would you both shut up? Some of us are trying to sleep back here."

 _And successfully_ , she thought, as she cast a glance at Max and Liz curled around one another, utilizing each other as living pillows. Even Isabel seemed undisturbed, sitting alone with her cheek in her hand.

Maria scowled at them all. She was dying in this van.

"No can do, Maria," Kyle said, way too cheerfully for her current mood. "This is one muse that can't be silenced."

Maria turned that scowl on him, glaring into the review mirror.

She watched as he withered under her gaze. "Now that you mention it, my throat is getting a little sore. I'll just . . . rest the vocal chords for a while."

"Wise choice," she said, and batted her makeshift pillow of knotted jacket and shirt in an effort to get more comfortable. Why Max had gone for only changing the exterior of the van from a blue Volkswagen to a green Dodge Ram and not even touching the interior was still a mystery to her. "When did we decide we could actually stop?" she asked. "Because I swear, if I have to spend one more night in this tin can of a car, _I'll_ be the one walking the rest of the way."

"You know the drill, Maria," said Michael, head still resting against the seat and providing her a good view of his hair. "No stopping overnight. Not until"—

"We're at least seven hundred miles out," she finished for him with a sigh. "Yeah, I got the memo. But there are some of us who need things like, say, a shower." And was it the truth. Already the van was starting to smell more of people than its original scent: old car. Now it just smelled of people _and_ old car, which was far from an improvement, and if there was one thing Maria hated, it was feeling unclean.

Michael lifted his head and opened his mouth to speak but Maria intervened before he could. "And no, gas station sinks do not count."

Thanks to his own mirror, Maria caught the flair of his nostrils, the infamous sign that he was becoming annoyed. "You're the one who wanted to come."

She rolled her eyes skyward. "I'm sorry for thinking decent hygiene was unreasonable."

"Yeah, well, the rest of us have bigger problems to worry about. You know, like trying to keep ourselves alive and out of some alien rat lab. But no, you just want a shower."

Maria bit her lip and gave a small shake of her head, feeling an ember of anger ignite between her ribs. Yes, this was what she'd left home for.

The freedom of the open road ahead.

The friends around her.

For the blockhead alien upfront who was really starting to piss her off.

From her periphery, she saw Kyle raise a hand. "Actually, I could go for one of those, too. If it's like, you know, a democratic thing we're doing here."

"We're not stopping, okay?" Michael barked, effectively waking Max whose head shot up at the sudden outburst. "End of discussion."

Maria turned her eyes to the window, watching as desert drifted by. It felt like they'd been driving for more than four days. Like the desert was endless. Like it wasn't ready to let them all go.

"What's wrong?" asked Max, his voice thick from sleep.

"Nothing," Michael hissed. "These two wanna stop. I told 'em no dice, we can't stop. We _aren't_."

Maria let out a faint scoff and looked up at him, exasperated by the authoritative attitude. She felt Max scrutinizing them all.

"I think the tight quarters are starting to get to us," he said in his usual neutral tone.

Kyle glanced in the review mirror, eyes falling to Liz who was still snuggled into Max's side. "I don't hear all of us complaining."

Max placed a hand on her shoulder, the movement seemingly unconscious. "We've been on the road four days. We should be far enough. I don't see much harm in staying one night."

At this, Michael practically blew a fuse. "You're really willing to risk that, Max?"

"I think there's a risk either way. In this situation, tempers are bound to rise. What we don't need is any of us drawing attention to ourselves."

Michael turned his glare on Maria who matched it. "That's just great. See what your little shower talk did?"

"Me?" Maria asked in disbelief, feeling as that ember sparked, like tinfoil in a microwave. "You're the one throwing the tantrum here."

"I'm the one trying to keep the FBI off our tail, or did you forget?"

"I'm five hundred miles away from Roswell, away from absolutely _anything_ I know. How could I possibly forget, Michael?"

A flash of silver caught Maria's eye and she looked down just in time to see a lone can of soda shake before it exploded, dousing the lower parts of her jeans in spots of brown. Her mouth dropped open and she stared back at Michael, breathing in the fumes of people, old car, and cherry coke.

Across from her, Max looked from the can to Kyle. "Pull off at the next rest stop," he ordered. "We're staying at a motel."

* * *

Crappy motels, it seemed, were in danger of becoming a euphemism for her life, Maria decided, as they pulled into the lot of the Rose Inn, situated in the small town of Bisbee Arizona fifty miles later. Maria glanced around, expecting some rosebushes to support its namesake, yet the only plants around were dead brush and cacti. The two-story building wasn't even painted red, but a faded blue. The glowing purple sign over the top was missing its ' _s',_ making Rose look like Roe instead. The Roe Inn.

"Very . . . chic," Kyle muttered, when they all filed out and stood beside the van. Max had volunteered to claim the room keys and he his form could be seen clearly through the window, his back to them.

Maria stood off to the side, keeping a safe distance from Michael. No more in spite than it was in the interest of self-preservation. After their little spat, all Maria was looking for was a shower and bed. Then would she be fit for reconciliation.

A few minutes later, Max returned and came to a stop in front of the group. He leveled a look at each of them as he brandished three keys nestled in his palm. "It's safer for us to sleep in pairs. How you all want to decide"—

Before he could finish, Isabel stepped forward and snagged the keys from his hand with nothing more than an exaggerated, "Oh, please." She turned to the others. "Liz, you go with Max. Michael will go with Maria. That leaves Kyle with me. One alien per human. With"— she looked back at Liz, undoubtedly searching for the right term-"obvious exceptions."

But Maria was already shaking her head, holding her hands up in surrender. "Wait, I thought the goal was to dial down the emotion and you think sticking me with Spaceboy is the way to do that?"

She hesitated. "Well . . ."

"How about I stay with you and Michael can take Brad Arnold over here?" Maria proffered, ignoring the urge to look at her uncouth boyfriend.

"As inviting as that is," Kyle injected, looking slightly uncomfortable. "I'll have to pass."

Isabel acted as if she hadn't heard him and stared back at Maria. "You guys can't go a single night without fighting?"

Maria arched a brow at her.

Isabel shook her head, sprightly brown curls bouncing at the movement. "Right. Forgot who I was talking to. Look, that's not the point." She cut a sharp glance at each of them. "The point is Maria left her home to be here with us and, Michael, you were right to think about our safety. But if you two could find it in you to just shut up long enough to realize you have each other that would be a big help. I left my husband. My _husband!_ And you're standing here complaining about not wanting to be around one another? Do you know how heartless that is? I envy you two." She looked over at Max and Liz. "And I envy you two. The only one I don't envy is Kyle because unlike the rest of you, he's in this alone."

"Can I just say how much this is doing for my self-confidence right now?" Kyle piped quietly.

"Both of us," Isabel forged on. "We have you guys but _we_ are alone! So, Michael." Her gaze snapped to him and she started slowly in his direction, like a lion stalking its prey. "You are going to take Maria to your crummy room and you are going to act like an adult there. You will not fight, shout, or blow _anything_ up. And when I see the two of you tomorrow morning, you will be together, and you will be happy in each other's company, even if I have to join the two of you at the hip and lock the both of you in the car until you learn to play nice like the sniveling, pathetic little children you are." She smacked the key down into Michael's hand. "Is that understood?"

Maria, who was feeling largely bewildered by this point, managed a small nod while Michael mumbled a grave, "Yeah, whatever."

And with that, Isabel tossed the second key to Max, turned on her heel, and tore off in the direction of her room.

Kyle didn't seem all that anxious to go and stood rooted to the spot, hands crammed in his jean pockets. He released a slow breath through pursed lips and looked from the asphalt to the rest of the group. "Anyone wanna trade?"

 _"Kyle!"_

At Isabel's shout, Kyle jumped a little and, with one last worried glance at the others, hurried after her.

Maria watched him go with a twinge of sympathy. Isabel may not have been Stonewall Guerin, but that didn't make her any more angelic.

"We'll meet out by the front—!" Max started to call after, but Isabel shut the door before he had a chance to finish. He turned back the others. "We'll meet out front by the car. You see or hear anything, wake everyone else." He waited for a nod of acknowledgement and then him and Liz went off to their room, next door to Isabel and Kyle's.

There was an awkward pause and Maria wanted to fill it, she just didn't know what to fill it with. _Oh, forget it_ , she thought and strode up to Michael. With a fake smile, she plucked the key from his hand and sought out their room, which, given the placement of the others, wasn't all that hard to locate.

A silver three hung sadly from their door. Its second bolt was missing, making the number hang to one side. Maria unlocked the door and stepped inside. She was hit with that very distinct stench of motel and barely glanced at the single bed as she crossed over to the bathroom, hurried in, and closed the door behind her.

Resting against it, she threaded her hands behind her neck and drew in a deep breath, resisting the urge to bang her head against the wall. In times like these, she would've fetched her bottle of Cedar oil or lavender, something to calm her down, but their whole Great Escape didn't exactly allow her a quick stop by her house. No, she'd gone with the clothes on her back, which, as she moved to the mirror and appraised herself, wasn't much; one of Michael's jackets hung loosely from her shoulders, falling over a pale chiffon top and wrinkled jeans. The hems were now spotted in soda. Her newly dyed hair was losing its luster and, without Isabelle's help, was on a quick road back to becoming blonde. Makeup appliances never made an appearance in any film involving runaways and Maria was sorry to find it was an accurate rendition. Of course, women in those films still wore makeup, which gave the misleading impression women on the run at least looked _hot_ on the run.

Maria wasn't too pleased to find how mistaken they really were.

She shook the thought from her head and let the issue go. _Way to focus on the important stuff._ Like how she was alive. That the others were alive. That's what mattered. That's all that _should_ matter.

But that didn't mean she wouldn't take advantage of whatever luxury she had available to her, and Maria stayed in the shower until the hot water ran cold.

When Maria emerged, redressed in the same clothes, she found Michael perched on the lone bed, arm behind him as he flipped through the channels on the TV. He'd turned the sound off.

"Feel better?" he asked, but his tone held a trace of mocking and Maria deigned not to respond.

To keep herself from saying anything she might later regret, Maria quickly yanked back the covers and crawled into bed. She shoved her feet inside with a little more force then necessary, resulting in an accidental kick to Michael's shin.

"Ow! Watch it, will you?" he said.

Maria had her back to him and stared at the cream colored wall, waiting for him to add something else. To put in some sort of effort to rectify their earlier spat. But Michael stayed quiet, and Maria found her annoyance boiling over into rage. "That's all you have to say?" she finally asked, keeping her gaze locked on the wall as if she were talking to it. Knowing Michael, she may as well have been.

She felt him shift in what could only be a shrug. "What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know, sorry for being a jerk, maybe?"

"Well, maybe if you weren't such a princess about things, you'd see I have nothing to be sorry for."

Maria found herself tearing off the covers and lurching upright. Her anger boiling into rage. She stares across at him. "Princess? Because of what? Because I was tired? Because I've been wearing the same clothes for almost a week and just wanted to feel a fraction more clean?"

"Hey, you agreed to it when you decided to come. What'd you think this was gonna be, some friendly road trip? We're running for our lives, here." He returned his gaze to the silent TV. "You have no one to blame for it but yourself."

Maria stared at him, feeling her lips part in surprise. "I came along because I _love_ you," she said slowly, voice growing in volume, "because you're all part of my family. I thought you wanted me to come."

His eyes didn't move from the TV screen. "I never asked you to."

Those words seemed to pack a physical blow and Maria blinked her eyes rapidly, trying to keep her sudden tears from falling. Bantering was one thing, but this was stronger. More destructive. It was like everything he'd said before speeding off on his motorcycle just five days ago suddenly lost all credence and she was left to sort through the pieces. Maybe she'd been wrong in thinking things had changed. Maybe the deception was believing it ever would.

"Then what are you saying?" she asked, hating the quiver in her voice.

Michael turned his head to look at her. They were fighting, and he couldn't even find it in him to sit up properly. "I'm saying you had a choice. The rest of us didn't. You could go back and no one would know any better."

She blinked, feeling her nails dig into her palms. _The rest of us have bigger problems to worry about. You know, like trying to keep ourselves alive and out of some alien rat lab._ "Right. Because I'm not special like any of you."

Michael simpered, some of the tension in his posture dissolving. "Maria"—

But she was already out of bed, grabbing her coat she'd discarded in the bathroom. There was no way she was staying here. Not tonight. Not after this. She wished Liz were alone in her room so she could barge in and talk it out with her best friend, but there was a part of Maria that understood she couldn't go to Liz. Not about this. Because she was an outsider. However Maria looked at it, however much she fiddled with the small technicalities and twisted the bolts into some excuse, she didn't belong. She could leave, and, as Michael had said, it would make no difference. They needed Max. They needed Isabel. They needed Michael and Liz. Kyle needed them.

But who needed her?

Maria shrugged on the coat and headed for the door.

Somehow, Michael located the ability to sit up. In fact, he did a little more than that, and jumped off the bed. "Where are you going?"

Maria didn't look at him. "I'm sleeping in the van."

"Thought you were tired of the van."

"I'll manage." _Somehow._ It was better than being here another second.

He was over to her in two strides and his hand grabbed her forearm. His brown eyes bored into hers with a sudden, vibrant intensity. "You're not goin' anywhere. It's not safe."

"No, it's not safe for _you_ ," she snapped. "Isn't that what you just finished telling me? That the people after you aren't interested in humans?" She pulled open the door.

Michael used his other hand to slam it back shut. "No," he agreed. "They aren't. But that doesn't mean those shooters back there can't use you to get to the rest of us."

"So I'm just a liability then."

"Yes."

Maria flinched and drew back, every thought she had dispersing until she was left in a silence. She stared at him through wide eyes as he seemed to register what he'd just said. "No," he quickly amended. "I mean, you are. But that didn't come out right"—

She held up a hand, cutting him off. "Save it, Michael. Just . . . save it." She ripped her arm from his and pulled open the door again, using her foot as a wedge so he couldn't slam it a second time.

"Maria, stop. Look, you can be pissed at me all you want, but that doesn't make it any safer."

"Fine, then I'll be lookout," she said bitterly. "It's probably better to have someone standing guard, right?"

The muscles in his jaw feathered, and Maria was marginally satisfied to know she wasn't the only one getting upset.

"Maria, this isn't debatable. If something _is_ out there"—

"Then you'll be the first to know."

Michael shook his head, brown hair slapping back and forth. "No. No, you're not doing this."

She arched her eyebrows at him, ignoring the urge to scoff. "Oh, I don't take orders from you, Pal. Never have. And your ego is even bigger than your home planet if you think I'm gonna start now." And on that note, she stormed out. Now she really wished she'd brought some Cider oil. She could go for a few drops. Or a barrel of the stuff.

She heard Michael's growl coming from behind her, his presence seeming to singe the very air around her. "Maria, if you don't get back here"—

"You'll what?" she challenged, whirling back to face him. "You've basically just told me in your warped Michael way that I don't belong here, that you didn't want me here to begin with, and that I'm a danger to all of you to keep around. Unlike Kyle, I'm not even a candidate for your little Martian party because I'm just human. A boring, ordinary human that Max never healed. But there just so happens to be one thing I _can_ do, one small thing, and that's to stand guard."

She resumed her walk back to the van.

Footsteps sounded behind her, but the concept of Michael chasing her at this time had long since lost its appeal.

"Is this your way of trying to get me to talk about relationship stuff again?" he demanded angrily. "About what I said before graduation? You want us to share our feelings?"

Maria took a shaky breath, very aware of her hands quaking at her sides. "You know, for once, you've actually said enough."

Then she hopped into the van and slammed the door shut before he could form any response.

Knowing Michael Guerin, he had none to give.


	2. Two

**A review already?! I wasn't sure this would even get noticed! Thank you so much, that literally made my day because I enjoy writing this so much and to know there are others who enjoy reading it makes it a million times better. So thank you! (Feel free to leave your thoughts in more reviews) :)**

* * *

 _-TWO-_

Her head was pounding, the pain ricocheting from temple to temple like some form of Newton's Cradle. Maria didn't have to look in the passenger mirror to know her eyes were swollen.

She'd tried to be stoic over last night's blowout. Had tried hard to act as unaffected as Michael probably was now, but there was a slight problem with that. Unlike Michael, Maria had feelings.

And boy, had she gone through a night of feeling.

After a good cry, she'd fallen into a restless sleep that woke her early, before any of the others. She hadn't seen or heard anything all night, save for the sound of her own muffled sobs which did little to help her black mood. Hurricane DeLuca had been reduced to a pathetic downpour. She felt like a wet kitten. A pissed off, wet kitten.

What had she been expecting, though? Sensitivity? From _Michael?_ Yeah right. A rock was capable of more emotional output than him. But he'd shown sympathy to her before. He'd comforted her through dark times in the past. What made this any different?

Unless he'd meant what he said. That by not asking her to come, it meant he didn't want her to. He hadn't stated loud and clear that he _didn't_ want her to come, but he hadn't stated the opposite either.

And then she had to face the other question, the one whispering over all the others, and that was the thought that if she were different, if she were one of them, would it change the way Michael felt?

It was the real reason she had slept out here anyway, in addition to her anger and Michael's hurtful words, spoken in that thoughtless way of his without any consideration for how it would come across. No, what Michael had done was simply confirm Maria's fears. She was different. She was an outcast. And no one, not even Michael, pretended not to see it.

She pulled in a shaky breath, trying to reign in her maelstrom of thoughts. Sitting in the van wallowing wasn't going to help solve her problems. She had to do something. She had to get out.

Maria bent over and reached a hand under the seat, until she felt the small wad of cash they'd collected for food and gasoline. She leafed through a few of the bills and pulled them out before returning the stash to its spot. She grabbed a yellow notepad that was crammed in the door and held it and the cash as she got out of the van.

When Maria reached her room, she slipped in as quietly as she could, not knowing whether she wanted to find Michael awake or asleep. Sleeping meant no opportunity to bicker. Awake meant he'd at least felt some sort of regret over last night's fight.

But no, Maria felt a spark of disappointment to find him asleep on his stomach, pillow buried under his head. Even the TV was still on.

She shot him a glare before scooping up the motel pen and heading into the bathroom. There she jotted down a quick note and propped it against the sink where Michael would definitely find it. He liked to be alert, and so Maria had often found him splashing cold water on his face first thing in the morning.

She left as quietly as she'd come, hurrying across the parking lot and down the sidewalk. Cafes and bauble shops rose up from either side, looking like they'd just stepped out of some Western, but Maria wasn't looking at them. She kept her eyes glued ahead, trying to shove thoughts of Michael into some mental box she had no access code for. The bus stop was just a few blocks over and she allowed herself to stare at it. Everything inside seemed to shudder to a halt, so suddenly a passerby clipped her from the back.

Maria rubbed her shoulder idly as she looked at the bus stop. Her other hand curled around the money.

She wondered if it would be enough for a ticket.

* * *

Michael's head was pounding. He blinked as he sat up in bed and glanced over at the TV. He'd been too tense to fall asleep last night and had stayed up instead, staring at the screen until eyestrain had set in. Disks of pressure sat behind his eyes and he rubbed them in attempt to relieve some of the ache.

The full force of the previous evening, the argument he'd had with Maria, quickly rushed back to him and he shut his eyes again. He wished he had some superpower to rewind time and say the right thing. But he doubted a do-over would help him much. It wasn't exactly like he was the type of guy who was good with words. Or feelings. Or putting his feelings into words.

He'd meant what he said, but he hadn't meant it in the way Maria thought. As if that made any sense.

No, it was all true, save for the part of her claiming he didn't want her around. That being human made her less . . .

That's it. Just less. Sure, Michael was clumsy with words, but how did she get that out of what he'd said? Didn't she ever stop to wonder how _he_ felt? The girl he loved just volunteered to ship herself around the country with them all. She'd left behind her home for him. She'd left behind her own mother, the same way Maria's father had left her.

And that . . . that was all on Michael. He didn't like to admit it, didn't like to really dwell on it at all, but what he felt the most wasn't joy over the fact Maria had decided to come along, it was guilt. Guilt and worry. Because what if she didn't find what she was looking for out here? What if those loons back in Roswell did manage to track them down? What if she got hurt? All of that would be on him, because whether she liked it or not, he felt responsible for her. And it wasn't like he could tell her; she'd go off on some tangent about the domineering nature of the male persona and how only she was responsible for her choices, yadda, yadda, yadda. But Maria, if not a big part of her, had come for him. And that made him responsible for that part.

Didn't it?

Michael sighed, frustrated, but forced himself to get up. She was still out in the van after all, and even though she was probably pissed, he wanted to check that she was at least alive and pissed. So that's exactly what he did.

Mentally preparing for the verbal onslaught, Michael left the relative safety of the motel room and stepped out into the war zone. The sunlight was blinding and didn't help the pain around his eyes as he ventured into the lot and stopped by the van.

He didn't even have to open the door to know she wasn't inside.

Michael paused, hand outstretched toward the door handle. No, she wasn't here, because he couldn't feel her. Not in some twisted, alien-sense, but in their own weird human sense. Some people just knew when other people were around. They could feel it in their bones. That's sort of how it was, which was how Michael knew Maria was not in the van.

But he still opened the door to double check, casting a glance around at the back and front. Nothing seemed out of place. There was no indication of a struggle. The van was exactly how they'd left it, only now Maria-less.

Michael took a step back, trying to stave off the cold feeling that had suddenly settled inside him. No, this didn't mean anything. There was an explanation. An explanation that did not involve what that cold feeling was telling him.

 _No,_ he told himself. No, he'd just have to find her. This was Maria, after all. She had to be around here somewhere, which meant Michael needed help. He didn't want to alarm everybody though, and wondered what his chances were of getting Liz out of the room without Max's notice.

 _Not high,_ he decided. Plus, in the interest of self-preservation, Michael concluded it probably wasn't the best idea to share his fight with Maria's best friend.

And that only left one person.

"I thought I gave you strict instructions to _work. It. Out_ ," Isabel hissed at him. They'd left Kyle sleeping on the floor, who hadn't even shifted any when Isabel practically growled at having been woken up by Michael five minutes ago.

Now they stood just outside, Isabel's dark gaze boring into him accusingly. She hadn't even done her little Fairy Godmother thing and spruced herself up, which left her in an even worse humor than usual. Or maybe it had more to do with her having left her husband back in Roswell, but Michael wasn't about to start feeling bad about that, too.

"I tried to work it out!" he told her, jumping on the defensive. "But some things just sort of slipped out and . . ."

Isabel's eyes narrowed dangerously. " _What_ just sort of slipped out, Michael?"

Maybe he should've gone for Liz after all, because the warning in Isabel's gaze was sending the alarms in his head flashing, cloaking his thoughts in a vibrant red. But it was too late to turn back now.

"I . . . might've given her the impression that she shouldn't have come." At her disbelieving look, he rushed on, "Look, why does that even matter now? Let's just focus on finding her, all right?"

Michael turned around and started walking, but what Isabel asked next gave him pause.

"What if she went home, Michael?"

He looked back to her, having not really considered the possibility. But Maria-logic had him quickly dismissing it. "Without notifying anyone? Without notifying Liz? No. There's no way. No matter how mad I get her, she wouldn't just leave without telling us. It's too risky and she knows that. Which . . . Which just leaves –"

"She must've been taken."

Michael went very, very still, hands freezing at his sides. Then the ice cracked and his voice turned hard. "No. No, that's not an option, Izzy."

Isabel stepped towards him and rested a hand on his arm, all traces of her earlier annoyance gone. "Michael, we have to look at all the possibilities here"—

But Michael just shook her off. "And that's not one of them," he snapped, and then felt guilty for it. He tried spooling in his anger. His worry. Whatever terrible _thing_ was seeping into his veins and dancing with his blood. "It just—It can't be, all right? She probably just wanted to get back at me for last night. That's what this is about."

Because that's all it could be, right? There was nothing else. He would know.

"I thought Maria was above pranks," said Isabel, sounding uncertain. "Especially ones this tasteless."

"Well after the way things went last night, I can't exactly blame her for it."

"Right, because you told her that she shouldn't have come."

"I didn't say that!" Michael exploded, suddenly unable to find the crank to reel everything back in. "I just said all of us didn't exactly have a choice in the matter but she did and that if she went back, it wouldn't make much of a difference!"

That did him no favors.

Isabel's eyes widened and her mouth actually dropped open a little. She didn't speak for a few seconds. " _You_ . . ."

Michael blinked. "What?"

She looked up in exasperation. "You're an idiot, Michael. I cannot _believe_ you would tell her that!"

He shook his head, hands curling into fists. "Can you save the lecture until _after_ we find Maria?"

But before Isabel could say anything, the door to room two opened and out wandered Kyle, his brown hair tousled, his clothes a wrinkled mess. A wool blanket was draped over his shoulders. "What's going on?"

"Maria's gone," Michael said simply.

Kyle's eyes lost its delirium. "What happened? And shouldn't Liz and Max be here for this?"

"We are," came Max's voice, and Michael turned to see door number one had opened, making this feel like some alien gameshow, with Liz at his side. Max rubbed one eye as he took them all in with the other. "What's this about Maria?"

Great. This was exactly what Michael had wanted to avoid. But he couldn't deny that five pairs of eyes were definitely better than one. If it helped find Maria, he'd deal with it.

"Maria and I had a stupid fight," he explained, giving them all the short version. "She said she'd sleep in the van. Keep a look on things. But when I went out to get her, she wasn't there."

Isabel slapped his shoulder with the same hand she'd just tried to use as an instrument of comfort. "You let her sleep in the van?"

"Hey, I tried to stop her! What was I supposed to do, tie her up?"

None of them did a very good job at concealing their judgement and Michael shook his head. "You know what, just forget it. None of it matters anyway. If I have to look for her myself, fine. The rest of you can just wait around here."

He whirled around and started off.

"I'm coming," Liz chirped behind him.

"Me too," Kyle chimed.

But a hand clamped Michael on the shoulder before they were able to get very far. He didn't have to look to know it was Max. Kyle just didn't have the guts to grab him like that.

But Michael wasn't in the mood to play Royal Court, and shrugged off his hold. "We'll split up."

"You think that's a good idea?" asked Max. "We're stronger as a group. What if this is just some ploy to spread us out? Make us vulnerable?"

Michael felt his emotions default to the one he knew best. Anger. "I don't really care just as long as we cover ground. I'm gonna take the left part of town. You three take the right. Isabel will go with me. And don't forget to check the bathrooms."

Max moved in between, blocking Michael's path. Warning radiated from him. "Michael"—

"Get out of my way, Maxwell."

"We have to consider this," he said. "Carefully."

Michael glared at him, feeling the boundaries of his control fluctuate like riptides. One wrong move, and he'd step over the border.

"Or what?" he challenged. "Look around, Max. You said it yourself; you're not king anymore, and I'm not your second which means I don't need your permission."

Max looked like he wanted to argue but refrained. Always steady. Always in control. That was Max. "We'll look across the street," he said in a monotone. "That way we'll at least be within reaching distance of one another."

Michael didn't voice his agreement and didn't wait for the others to either. He just stepped around Max and started walking until he hit the sidewalk. Isabel hurried up beside him.

This town might've been small, but there were a lot of shops, all of them antiquated, reminding Michael of some John Wayne film. It made the roads and the cars parked along the sidewalk look strange and out of place.

Michael stopped at the first shop, a narrow little place called the Roka Café, and peeked his head inside. The smell of coffee was almost overpowering as he scanned the area. There were a few people milling about, a few standing in line. But none were Maria. He quickly walked on.

There was a general store up ahead but Michael walked right by it without a second glance. Maria hated grocery shopping. She wouldn't have gone in there.

On the opposite side of the street, the others moved along, opening and closing doors. If anyone looked at them, they'd probably assume they were a bunch of kids out searching for some missing pet.

"This still doesn't make any sense." Isabel mused next to him as Michael opened the door to some pawn shop, scanned the interior, and closed it just as quickly. "You said she wouldn't just leave without telling anybody."

Michael took a little more time in his search when he stopped at a boutique. Maria liked boutiques. Something about the uniqueness or whatever. "She wouldn't."

"Then why do you think she just left?"

Maria wasn't in the boutique and they resumed their trek down the sidewalk. "Because that's the only thing that could've happened," he answered brusquely. "Because then it means somebody took her and I wasn't there to stop it."

That was really the truth of the matter. If something happened to her because of last night, it would be his fault.

It was always his fault.

"And you didn't hear anything?" asked Isabel, having to quicken her pace to match his. "Not the van door or a screa—?"

At the sharp look he cut her, she let the word drop. "You think I wouldn't have heard?"

"I'm just asking"—

"You think she screamed and I just didn't hear it? That I was just asleep as someone came and . . ." he didn't finish the thought. "No. She couldn't have been taken by somebody. She wasn't."

They paused before another boutique, its huge glass window decorated in an elegant, golden scrawl.

Michael's control was slipping, slipping like a rope between his hands. It was too much. The guilt, the worry, the cold. And Isabel, standing at his side with that look in her eyes. A look that perfectly mirrored his own growing doubt.

"What makes you so sure?" she asked gently.

And that rope slipped free.

"Because then it means the last thing I told her was that it wasn't safe for her here!" Michael suddenly bellowed, seeing in his mind's eye as Maria walked away and climbed into the van. "That she was a liability! That I didn't want her around, which makes this my fault! Mine! And I just—I can't—!"

His control shattered, in the form of the boutique's window, rippling like water before exploding in a dust of glitter and glass. It showered the sleeve of his jacket and scattered over the pavement, catching the light until half the street shown like diamonds.

A ringing sounded in his Michael's ears, but he was too bewildered to move. He just stared at the broken window, tasting blood from where he'd apparently bitten his lip.

The moment seemed to freeze in time.

Then the ringing subsided, and Michael heard someone talking.

"What did you just do?" the person asked. But it wasn't Isabel who'd spoken.

Michael moved before he realized it. His head whipped around so fast the world spun—

And he was greeted by a pair of very familiar green eyes, widened up at him.

The air in Michael's lungs dissolved. His heart pounded somewhere in his throat. He felt his mouth moving but no words came out. He stood there for a moment, staring dumbly at Maria.

Then he was moving. His hands dropped to her shoulders and he was looking her up and down, checking for bruises or scrapes, anything to indicate something had happened and she'd just managed to get away. Michael felt a wave of fury build over the thought . . .

But no. She seemed perfectly fine. Not a scratch on her. "Are you all right?" he asked anyway. "Where were you?"

Maria gave him a perplexed look, eyebrows sitting high atop her forehead, and raised a white bag up for him to see. It had the emblem of a chicken stamped on the front. "I was getting breakfast." Her eyes scanned his face and then flashed over to Isabel's. "Why, did something happen?"

Michael took a step back. Blinked. Shook his head to understand what she was telling him because it suddenly seemed so impossible. Too moronic to grasp, even for him. "You . . . you left to get food," he deadpanned.

Maria gave a slow nod.

Michael stared at her.

Then he exploded.

"And you just thought it would be smart to walk off? Without saying _anything_ to _anybody?!_ " His fists clenched and unclenched and he resisted the urge to shake her for her stupidity.

"The rest of you were sleeping," she shot back, looking somewhat bewildered by the outburst. "I left you a note with the time I'd be back on it so you'd know when to expect me."

"What note? There was no note."

"I left it in your bathroom by the sink."

" _By the sink?"_ he asked incredulously. "Not on the door or the van or anyplace that I would even _think_ to look?"

"The first thing you do in the mornings is that whole face-splashing routine of yours. How could you _not_ see it?"

"Because I was too busy wondering where you ran off to!"

"So . . . you're mad that I'm okay?" Maria asked, ribbons of disbelief threaded between her words. Shining back in her eyes.

Michael tore his hands through his hair and twisted around. No, he wasn't mad that she was okay. He was glad that she was okay. Or he would be, once he got passed the anger that was neutralizing all his other emotions.

Fortunately for him, he was saved from having to respond as Max and the others crossed the road, having probably heard the small implosion. Liz practically tackled her best friend in a hug. "Are you okay?" she asked. "Did someone—?"

"Oh no, she's fine," Michael interjected, voice drenched in sarcasm. "Maria here just thought it would be a bright idea to go fetch us some breakfast. By herself. Get in a little me-time." He shook his head and turned his back to them. "Unbelievable," he muttered. Then, almost as if his body had a mind of its own, he shoved his hands into his pockets and stalked off, instinct shouting at him to run. He had to get his anger back under control and the last thing he needed was some shopkeeper hounding on him for desecrating her window.

Maybe the feds had already been notified, thanks to him. Maybe they were racing over now.

Maybe Maria wasn't the only liability in all this.

Maybe she made him one, too.

* * *

Maria watched Michael as he walked away, her eyes locked on his stiff shoulders until he disappeared from view. Slowly, she dragged her gaze back to the others and stared between them and the once-window, now lying in a glistering sheen at her feet. "Okay, what—?"

"He was worried," Isabel said simply, as if that explained it all.

Kyle let out a scoff. "Worried? The guy was in full blown panic mode. He was so freaked out I'd bet good money that if Maria had any of her oils, he would've downed two bottles of that cedar stuff by now."

Isabel shot him a pointed look. "Not helping, Kyle."

Maria blinked at them all, trying to comprehend the situation. Trying to understand how the jerk from last night's spat session had transformed into that of a worrywart. And over _her,_ nonetheless. Hadn't Michael just reminded her he'd never asked her to come along?

 _What is going on in that head of his?_ Did she even want to know?

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to freak anyone out, I just . . ." Maria pulled herself together and let out a defeated sigh. She thrusted the white bag to Max. "Fine. I'll go talk to him." Maria know she needed to. It was either that or suffer the awkwardness in the confines of the van, which, after Michael's little window trick, didn't seem like a very promising alternative.

"He might need some time to cool off," Isabel said.

But Maria just gave a flippant wave of her hand as she set off after Michael. "Nobody has that kind of time. Especially us."

It was easy enough to locate him. Maria knew he'd want to leave after his showcase and found him leaning against the van door, face to the sky, his eyes closed. Maria suddenly felt self-conscious but raised her chin and walked over. If he was worried about her, then at least she knew he still cared. However sadistic that sounded.

Maria knew that he could hear her. She knew could he feel her weight as she leaned against the door, too, studying the nearly vacant lot before them.

"Hey," she said lamely.

Michael didn't reply.

"Look," she started, putting everything she really _wanted_ to say to him on hold. "I didn't mean to scare you. Next time, I'll tell someone where I am. Verbally. Whether they're asleep or not. I'll even tape the note to your forehead to make sure you see it," she added playfully.

Michael stayed silent, as resolute as stone.

Maria waved a hand in front of his face. "Hello? In case you've forgotten your Human 101, this is usually your cue to respond. That's what's called a conversation. First I say something, then you say something, then back and forth, and back and forth . . ." she drifted off when the man still refused to move.

The guilt she'd been feeling over scaring him instantly dissolved and she pushed off from the van door. "You know what, forget it. It's whatever."

Maria turned around to leave, where to though, she didn't exactly know. But then a hand locked around her forearm and spun her back. Before Maria could make sense of what was happening she found herself locked against Michael's body, his arms wrapped tightly around her.

 _Okay_ , she decided. This was new. She didn't even know what to do with her hands at first, as if they'd never embraced before.

"You're not a liability, Maria," Michael murmured by her ear and she _almost_ smiled before Michael's next words ruined it. "Actually no, you are. You definitely are. But you're not . . . You don't mean less just because you aren't . . ."

"Of the little green gentlemen's club?" she supplied.

He pulled back to look at her and nodded gruffly. "Right. You're not Alien Maria. You're not even Human Maria. You're just . . . well . . . Maria. And I'm sorry, you know, for making you feel like that wasn't . . . enough."

Her eyebrows rose so high, she was sure they'd disappear into her hairline. This had definitely taken an unexpected turn.

A one-eighty, to be exact.

"Must have scared you more than I thought to get an apology _and_ a hug out of you. And without even asking." She prodded him in the chest.

He winced. "Let's not push it."

Maria smiled, dismissing everything she'd planned on saying. Or shouting. It didn't matter right now. If Michael was taking the initiative to say sorry, that was clearly a billboard sign of improvement and growth.

This time, Maria did smile as she stretched up to kiss him.

It wasn't enough to completely silence all her fears, but she batted them away as best she could for the moment. Her fingers laced up and through his hair as his hand cupped around her cheek. She tried to put herself inside it. Forget everything else. The fear. The worry. The nagging sensation that hissed to her words like _outsider_ and _ordinary._ _Human._

 _Liability._

The sound of footsteps notified her of the others' arrival and Michael broke apart from her first. Typical. She cast a glance at the rest of the gang, and was met with a round of blank stares.

Kyle leaned towards Isabel. "How long were we gone?" he asked.


	3. Three

**Thank you guys for your last reviews. Please write more, I love getting them; your kind words make my day :)**

* * *

 _-THREE-_

"What about Montana?" Max asked from the passenger's seat as he looked over the map spread out over his lap. They'd only been back on the road for half an hour, but Max had thought it a good idea to start taking a poll on where to go before they got much farther.

"Too cold," Kyle said.

"Northern Nevada?" Liz proffered, gazing at the map from above Max's shoulder.

"Too many casinos," Kyle mumbled with a sigh. "We don't need that temptation. It's immoral."

"What about California?" tossed out Isabel.

Maria had been mostly silent through the voting, content with leaning against Michael as the others volleyed suggestions back and forth. But at the mention of Nevada and California, Maria wrinkled her nose. "Can we maybe go a non-desert route here?" she asked. "Colder might be better. The FBI could be expecting us to relocate to . . . like-habitats."

"We're not frogs, Maria," Isabel said, twisting her wedding ring around her finger. She couldn't seem to stop doing that.

"But you are alien," Maria replied. "Who's to say how you three adapt?"

"I went to New York," Max pointed out, glancing at her from over his shoulder.

Maria nodded. "Yeah. For like, a day. That doesn't exactly make you nomadic."

"We are now," Liz said, her gaze sweeping over them. "All of us."

Her words cast a blanket of silence and Maria felt that familiar pain spark in her chest, present since she'd first climbed into the van and passed the sign that told them they were leaving Roswell. Leaving home.

Her thoughts flashed to her mother, the thought of her a constant among everything else. Maybe the most constant of all.

"I miss my Dad," Kyle suddenly said, tone heavy and solemn. It fell like a stone, ripping through the silence with an almost audible thud.

"I miss Jesse," added Isabel as she stared at her ring. "And our parents."

Max shoulders drooped a little and Liz mumbled a quiet, "Yeah."

Maria's eyes dropped to her lap as she willed away her own thoughts on the matter, chasing them off with an exasperated sigh. "It hasn't even been a week, Guys. If we were back home, it would just be a normal Wednesday. Liz and I would be at the Crashdown working our butts off. Isabel would be planning some elaborate event for some charity case or something. Michael would be flipping burgers and Max would be watching Liz from his usual seat at the counter while Kyle tinkered away in his little workshop like a good little elf. Oh yeah, super exciting."

She breathed past the pain in her chest and felt Michael's arm tighten ever so slightly around her. "We were all gonna leave sometime," she added confidently. "Sure, it might not have been ideal. But it was gonna happen sooner or later."

At least, that's what she told herself. That's what she hoped her mother told herself.

"I never planned on leaving my husband," said Isabel, voice quivering. She lifted her gaze to stare out the window.

"You only did what you thought was right," Max told his sister, looking over at her. "You did what you believed was best for him. That's all we can ever hope for."

Maria took a deep breath in an attempt to dislodge the weight in her chest, but it didn't budge. In fact, it only seemed to grow bigger when she caught her best friend gauging her with careful eyes. "What?"

"How are you doing?" Liz asked.

Maria gave a noncommittal shrug, as if she could shake off the question itself. "About what?"

"You left your mom, Maria."

Maria swallowed. "I know that." But that didn't mean she wanted to talk about it. She didn't even want to _think_ about it. Already she was conjuring an image of her mother standing around Maria's empty room, waiting for a daughter that wouldn't be coming home.

The edges of that picture were serrated and it hurt to hold. The guilt was still there, thick and undulating inside Maria. Would her mom believe Valenti if he told her? Would she understand why Maria had to leave? And would she ever forgive her for it?

Liz pressed her lips into a grim line. "Well . . . if you want to talk about it . . ."

"I don't," Maria said flatly. She couldn't. "We all knew what we were doing. _I_ knew what I was doing. She'll be okay. She's got Kyle's Dad and . . . and she'll be fine." But it only sounded like she was trying to convince herself of that. And Michael. She didn't need Michael doubting her now. And she wouldn't allow herself to project her guilt onto him.

Liz still didn't look away. She just studied Maria another moment before adding, in a soft voice, "This doesn't make you like him, you know."

Against her own volition, Maria stiffened. She made no reply. She just turned her attention to the window, onto sand and blue sky and nothing.

No, she wasn't like her father. Her father had told her mother that he was leaving to her face. Her father had left them money.

Maria had left a note.

* * *

She took her shift three hours later. With her hands clutched around the wheel and the desert unfurling before her, Maria could almost imagine she was in the Jetta. It was kind of intimidating, seeing the endless expanse of land stretching on and on, no _here_ in sight. _A thousand miles to go before I sleep._

Kyle took Max's place in the passenger seat, quietly humming some 90's song that was quickly starting to grate on Maria's nerves. Liz and Max were whispering to each other in the back, seated beside a blank-eyed Isabel and a sleeping Michael.

Yeah, they posed a _super_ huge threat to all of humankind.

Maria ground her teeth as Kyle's incessant humming continued. She tapped her left foot to occupy herself and checked her mirrors. The road was empty, save for the car she'd caught a few miles back. Honda. Boring.

Kyle began tapping his knee as he looked out the window, head swaying slightly with the rhythm.

To help drown out the sound, she turned on the radio and tried losing herself in the music. The notes wrapped around her and her mind went to that blank place inside she called the zone. It was where she went every time she sang. Every time the music took her. There was no guilt in the zone. No worry. No thought. There was just the melody, weaving between reality until it formed this little pocket of peace.

Then the music ended. The host started speaking and Maria was pulled back into the real world. Kyle had stopped his humming. She checked her review mirror, glancing first at the others and then the road far behind. Her eyes narrowed as they caught sight of a car. That Honda again.

A chilled feeling bloomed inside her and Maria felt her hands go clammy. She didn't want to say anything yet, and let ten more minutes drift by before checking on the car again.

Still there.

"Hey, Guys," Maria said, trying to keep the trepidation out of her voice. It didn't work. "Maybe I'm just getting paranoid, but I think we're being tailed."

The response was imminent.

Kyle moved his arm from his chin so quickly, his head slammed into the window. "What?"

Isabel lost her glassy-eyed look.

Max and Liz froze.

Michael lurched awake and everyone whipped around, staring out the back windshield.

"Who? That guy?" Michael demanded.

No one bothered to respond and Maria didn't have to look to know his hands were clenched around the seat. "Great," he snapped. "I knew stopping was a bad idea."

"What do we do?" Maria asked, hearing the panic in her own voice. She clenched the steering wheel with white, bloodless fingers and stared in her review mirror. The car was close enough now for her to catch the last plate numbers. _412._

Max held up a hand, his head still turned to the road behind. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Not everyone is out to get us. Maria,"—a jolt shuddered up her spine at the mention of her name—"take the next turnoff you see. If he doesn't follow, we'll know it's nothing. If he does, then we'll come up with a plan to lose him."

Maria nodded and worked to bottle her panic. She muttered a sequence of _okay_ 's and tried to shove away the sudden, ugly pictures filling up her head. Of armed men and white rooms and alien rat labs like something from _the Terminator_ —

She reached a turnoff and did as Max said, fingers shaking as she turned the wheel. She itched to slam the gas pedal to the floor but resisted, her attention torn between the road ahead and the one behind.

Maria held her breath as the car approached . . .

and passed without even slowing.

Maria released an audible breath and Kyle joined in. The stress crowding the van only moments ago vaporized and the air turned calm once again.

"We're like the Brady Bunch on Prozac," Maria muttered.

"Maybe we are getting a little paranoid," agreed Max.

Michael shifted back around until he was facing forward. His face didn't soften. "Better paranoid than dead."

"Still, we need to relax," Max said, looking at each of them. His gaze paused on Maria's hands and she realized she was still grasping the wheel in a death grip. She forced her fingers to unknot. "Expecting something around every corner is a good way to drive ourselves insane."

Maria switched hands to dry her damp palms on her pant legs. "I'm not sure that can be helped, Dr. Spock. We're all cats in water here, human minority included." Just because they were out of Roswell didn't make them home free, just as distance didn't necessarily make them safe.

"Then let's decide where we're going once and for all," Max suggested. He didn't even bother to pull out the map. _His alien brain has probably memorized every capital by now,_ Maria thought.

"Isabel wants California or Florida," he continued. "Liz, you said you were interested in"—

"Michigan."

That didn't surprise Maria. She'd heard Liz gush over schools, and some of her favorites just so happened to be in Michigan. Not that any of them could just hand over their credentials and jump feet first into the college life, much less _pay_ the tuition fees, but Maria suspected Liz liked to at least be nearby. Just in case.

Max's eyes drifted to the front. "Kyle mentioned Colorado."

"The Centennial State," Kyle nodded.

"Michael gave no vote, and Maria . . .?" Max's gaze snagged hers in the mirror.

She flashed a smile. "Maria has no preference."

Kyle made a sound of mock surprise and she looked over to him. "Since when?" he balked.

"Since now."

Max drew in a deep breath and started massaging his temple. "California might be too crowded. Same with Florida. I doubt we have enough money to make it all the way to Michigan _or_ Montana. Colorado is closer, and it has the benefit of being geographically diverse, so there's a good chance we'll all get at least a little of what we want." He shrugged meekly. "Does everyone agree?"

"That's fine with me," Maria heard Liz say.

"Colorado," Isabel mumbled. "Joy."

Michael gave his usual response to everything: "Whatever," and Maria nodded. "Yeah. Sure."

Kyle flashed a dorky smile and pumped his fist in the air. "The Centennial State!"

* * *

Evening was beginning to fall when Michael stopped the van beside a gas pump. He'd taken over Maria's shift four hours back, but the van was starting to run low on gas and it was suggested they break for a refill.

Max snatched up the wad of bills as the guy sitting on a stool by the minimart stood and wandered over. His overalls were stained, his underarms dank with sweat. The sight made Maria grimace.

"We need more supplies," Max said.

"I'll go," offered Maria before a second thought. She wanted out of the van and stretch her muscles. Maybe lose the residue of nervous energy that had flooded her when they thought they were being followed. But Michael hardly looked supportive of the idea and she knew he was going to object before he even said anything.

Luckily, Liz jumped to her defense. "We'll both go."

Now Max was the one with the look of disapproval. "I'm not sure"—

"Weren't you the one telling us not to expect something bad around every corner?" Maria challenged. "We'll only be a minute, and if anything goes wrong, I'll have Crackles here to protect me." She shot Liz a smile who wrinkled her nose and shook her head at the nickname. "Thanks, Maria."

"Come on." Maria extended her hand to Max, until he conceded and relinquished a few of the bills to her. He looked between the two of them. "Come straight back."

Maria nodded with faux seriousness. "Yes, Dad."

She pulled open the van door and hopped out, waiting for Liz before walking past Overalls and over to the minimart. She was about to go in when Liz snagged her sleeve and pulled her back.

"What?" Maria asked, seeing the concern on Liz's face in the telltale sign of her terse lips and pinched brows.

"I know you, Maria," she deadpanned. "Which means I know when you're not okay. Or at least when you're not completely okay, as well as you shouldn't be, but why do you keep pretending you are? You can't lie any better than you could Freshman year."

Maria frowned. Actually she thought she'd improved on her lying. Or maybe she'd only improved when lying to other people, not to those who knew her, especially Liz.

Usually the whole best friend-sixth sense was a helpful thing, but not this time. For once, Maria wasn't compelled to divulge everything she was feeling. She already knew Liz understood the guilt over leaving those she loved behind, but for Liz, it was literally a life-and-death scenario. For Maria, it was an ultimatum.

Not to mention her _other_ feelings, stashed in the restricted section of her thoughts, beside memories of her father and Domino, her Dalmatian. She didn't know how to explain her fears of being an outsider without sounding completely crazy. And she really didn't want to be pitied in her attempt.

So Maria just reached over and squeezed Liz's hand in reassurance. "I'm fine, Liz. Well, okay so I'm not _totally_ fine," she amended at her friend's look. "But like you said; I shouldn't be. Not yet, anyway. But I'll get there."

Maria smirked. "I do however think it'd be better if you waited out here, though."

Liz's eyes shot towards the minimart. "Why?"

Maria glanced over at something resting in the upper corner of the mart. " _Hello,_ video cameras? If we're gonna lose those trigger happy FBI agents, the last thing we need is this gorgeous face making its debut on a CVT." Maria patted Liz's cheek. "Be right back, Chica."

On that note, Maria turned and entered the minimart, leaving Liz by the newspaper dispensers.

Really, _minimart_ was too kind a word. It was more like a snack shack, with a limited supply of chips and a single brand of water. She was almost surprised to see it completely devoid of anything alien-related, and was hit with a pang of sadness that they truly were out of Roswell.

She shook the feeling off and traversed down the isle. "Oh, the depths my standards have plummeted to," Maria muttered as she piled chips in her arms. She grabbed as much water her money could buy before dropping it all unceremoniously onto the counter.

Mr. Overalls took his time getting back inside and Maria tapped her foot as he rang her up. She gave him a smile she hoped looked sincere and collected the two bags.

Liz was still waiting out front beside the newspaper dispenser as Maria walked out, one bag in each hand.

Two things happened then.

Liz turned to start walking back, but a glimmer in Maria's periphery gave her pause. She looked at Liz. Her eyes dropped, down to the small red dot trailed innocently on her friend's chest.

Maria didn't hear herself shout Liz's name, but she felt it, felt the vibration in her throat a second before she dropped the bags and slammed all her weight into Liz.

A jolt ran up Maria's spine, rattling her teeth and shaking her bones as she collided against the ground. A hot pain tore through her back, electrifying her nerves and setting everything on fire. Then it was gone.

A strange muffle filled Maria's ears and lights exploded behind her lids in bursts of white and red. When had she closed her eyes?

She tried to shake her head to clear away the cotton when a distant buzzing erupted, growing and growing until it became a discordant whistle, bouncing around her skull.

No, not a whistle.

It was Liz.

And she was screaming.


	4. Four

_~FOUR~_

Red. That's all that Liz could see. Red and Maria. It blossomed over her friend's abdomen, staining her pale green shirt an angry scarlet.

For a second, Liz couldn't move. Her body shut down, muscles and bone locking in place. It didn't feel real, like she'd suddenly stepped inside one of her many nightmares that stalked her as she slept.

But this wasn't a dream. And Liz knew she would not wake to find everything okay.

 _"_ _Max!"_ The name tore from her throat and shattered the stillness around her. She didn't even recognize her own voice. It was something panicked and terrified. Animal. _"MAX!"_

Liz scurried over to Maria's still form and placed her hands over the wound, pushing down. Blood squelched through her fingers and Liz couldn't seem to do anything but shout for Max and try to get the bleeding under control.

She _had_ to get the bleeding under control.

A part of her registered that she was in the open, exposed, but she didn't care. All that mattered was Maria. All that mattered was keeping her hands where they were.

 _Get the bleeding under control. Get Max. Max._

 _Max._

He was already there, she realized, when another set of hands appeared over hers. She looked up and met his amber eyes. Behind him stood Michael, utterly frozen as he stared down at Maria, like he was scared to move. Then a red dot skipped along the ground and over his foot.

"Get down!" Liz screamed.

Michael went from being completely still to a buzz of movement, ducking his head as he dropped beside Liz. He ran his fingers over Maria's face.

"Get to the van!" Max ordered, and Liz felt his hand wrap around her arm but she resisted. "You have to stop the bleeding! There's too much. You have to fix this!"

Michael moved forward and shoved Liz out of the way but Max stopped him before he could scoop Maria up. "We gotta get her out of here!" Michael snapped.

"I'll take her," said Max. "You get rid of the lights!"

Michael seemed like he wanted to argue but then took one look at Maria's paling face and raised a hand towards the minimart.

Liz felt a surge of energy expand outwards and the hair on her arms stood on end. Then there was a series of pops as the bulbs went out and Liz didn't even see the glass hit the floor before a blanket of shadow was tossed over everything.

She blinked, desperate to clear the darkness away, but someone grabbed her arm and she was hauled to her feet. Liz stumbled as Michael pulled her along. Slowly her eyes adjusted, and she could make out the shape of the van. Kyle stood outside and she heard Isabel getting out.

"Everyone in the van!" Max barked as Michael yanked open the door.

"We thought we heard a gunshot," Isabel shouted. Then she looked at Maria and her eyes rounded in horror. "What"—

"Just drive!" Max exploded as he set Maria on the floor of the van. Liz pulled herself in next and Michael jumped in after her. The door was still open as Kyle hit the gas and the van lurched forward and Michael barely managed to close it as they sped off.

Liz grabbed Maria to keep her from moving as Max placed both hands over the wound. Michael took Maria's hand.

"She—she pushed me out of the way," Liz said quietly. She could barely hear her own words over the blood roaring in her ears. "It should've been me." _It should've been me._ That thought played like a broken recorder in her head. _It should've been me. Me._ She wanted to believe this couldn't happen. That Maria couldn't . . .

But Liz had fallen for that lie before. And she knew better than to think best friends couldn't die.

"Max, hurry up," Michael bit out, words sharp as glass.

Liz wished she could look somewhere else. Focus on anything but Maria's white face and the too-bright red, but it was like her eyes had a will of their own. She couldn't look away. She was too afraid of what would happen otherwise.

Max's breathing turned strained and gravelly and Liz saw his hands start to shake.

"How did they find us?" Isabel asked, her voice filled with panic banking on hysteria. "How"—

"Quiet!" Max ordered.

Seconds ticked away and Liz's nails bit into her palms so hard they broke the skin. The sound or Maria's breaths could barely be heard over Max's. He was taking too long. Too long. _Too long._

"Nothing's happening," Michael ground. "Why isn't anything happening, Maxwell?"

"I don't-I don't know," he gasped out. "The connection's so weak. It's failing."

Liz felt her heart drop into her knees.

"Well try harder!" Michael barked.

"I _am_ trying!"

All thought flew from Liz's mind and she stared at the sight before her as if she was seeing it through someone else's eyes. Michael cupped Maria's face in his hands, blocking Liz's view. She still heard him, though.

"You are not dying, all right?" he said. "You're not allowed to and that's not up for negotiation. No, I'm _forbidding_ you to, so you get back here and tell me what a misogynistic pig I'm being for ordering you around!"

Max's breathing grew labored and his words were just above a whisper. "It's—it's slipping."

A curse erupted from Michael and his hand slammed against the floor, rattling the whole van. "Maria, come on! You said you weren't gonna scare me, right? Well, I'm scared, which I guess makes you a liar. You got that? I just called you _a_ _liar_. So let Max heal you so you can come back and kick me all the way to Colorado for saying so!"

Nothing happened. Max's breathing became sharp and fast and Maria didn't move. Liz felt her entire body go numb, until she was little more than a doll.

"Did you hear me, Maria?" Michael shouted. "I told you that I'm scared! I know you never listen to me but now would be a good time to start. Just this once. You're the one who said we were doing this together. This whole alien hootenanny, remember? Those are your words. So don't . . ." his voice faltered then, crumbling to a gentle whisper that Liz didn't even recognize. "Please don't go."

Max's shaking grew to a tremor and a shudder seemed to ripple through him. "Wait . . . I think . . ."

Liz held her breath, echoing Michael in her head. _Please, please, please._

"There," Max gasped. "I got it."

And just like that, Liz watched as the bleeding slowed. Color flew back into Maria's cheeks, painting them a perky pink. That terrible stillness cracked as her eyes fluttered, and shattered completely when they opened.

The moment Liz saw them, feeling flooded back into her and she could suddenly breathe again.

Maria blinked, gaze roving around confusedly. "Why are you all . . .?" Sudden fear filled her expression. "Wait, Liz"—

She was cut off by Michael, who pulled her to him in one fluid movement and buried his face in the crook of her neck.

Liz stared at them, too afraid that if she looked away, Maria would disappear. She watched as her friend met her eyes, and Maria's body suddenly started to shake like Max's hands.

In a quiet voice that wasn't customary to Maria, she said, "Lis wasn't the one who got hit this time."

Not a question.

Liz opened her mouth but didn't know what to say. Instead, she just gave a very small shake of her head.

Maria's shaking grew worse and she gulped in a lungful of air. She responded to Michael robotically, her movements stiff as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Liz waited for her friend to burst. For the hyperventilating to start. For the tears to come as the initial shock wore off. But none of it came. Maria just patted Michael on the shoulder and, in a shaky voice, whispered, "Shh, I'm okay. I—I'm okay." Her eyes met her best friend's. "Lizzie, I'm okay."

Liz didn't realize she was crying until now and hastily wiped her tears away. Max's breathing smoothed over.

"I could really go for some of that Cedar oil right about now," Kyle muttered from the front.

Maria's gaze moved from Liz's to the other alien still crouching at her side. "Thank you," she mouthed at Max, her eyes locked on his face.

She wouldn't look at his hands.

* * *

Maria's head was still swimming in the stars when Liz opted to get her cleaned up. She looked over at Isabel who took that as her cue and pulled herself into the back.

Michael still hadn't let go of her hand and Maria squeezed it reassuringly. She wasn't used to seeing him like this; vulnerable. It reminded her of another night, full of rain and a wet boy standing outside her window. He wasn't crying anymore but there was a haunted look in Michael's brown eyes, the stonewall pulverized for the time being.

 _Did you hear me, Maria?_

Yeah, she'd heard him. She'd manage to capture his voice between the images of stars and space and swirling galaxies, and hold on. Maria had _felt_ his fear and it clung to her now, foreign and slippery and wet.

Or maybe that was just the blood.

Maria looked down at her shirt, at the huge crater of scarlet adorning the front. Her hands shook as she took it in, flipped the words over and over again in her head. _I was shot. I almost died. I would be dead, if an alien hadn't saved me._

She didn't know what to expect. What were normal reactions here? Tears? Hysterics? They certainly seemed reasonable, as reasonable as they could be, given the circumstances. But laughing definitely didn't.

So Maria didn't quite know what to do with the strangled giggle that burst from her a few moments later.

Liz shot her a concerned look and Maria promptly clamped a hand over her mouth. "Sorry. I just . . . I was shot." She tried the words out. "Shot. Or as Spaceboy here would say, _popped_." She caught Michael's grimace from the corner of her eye.

Maria turned to Isabel. "Could you just . . . make this go away?" She motioned to her shirt. "Please." Maybe if it went away, Maria could pretend it hadn't happened. That almost dying was as dismissive as an ugly red stain.

Isabel nodded and extended a hand over the bloodied shirt. Like some super eraser, Maria watched as the stains leeched away, returning her shirt to its former color. When it was done, Maria stuck her finger through the hole right above her naval.

Maria blew out a shaky breath. If it weren't for the images and the eerie sensation of being pulled back from the brink, she could almost convince herself it was all just a bad dream. But then there were Max's hands and Michael's jacket, decorated in wayward smears of red, and Maria turned her attention elsewhere.

She rested her head against the seat and shut her eyes, trying unsuccessfully to picture something else. A calm beach. A guitar. Her mother broke to the surface of her thoughts and that ache in Maria's chest flared, worse than ever. She really, really wanted her mom right now. She wanted to bury her face in her mother's sweater and have her scare away the monsters. But her mom wasn't here.

 _So this is what it's like,_ Maria thought, _Dying._ Touching the other side. Courting the grim reaper. She couldn't remember anything beyond Michael's voice and that massive, twirling galaxy, so big she didn't know how it fit in Max's head.

She almost felt guilty for thinking it all strangely beautiful. Wasn't death supposed to be ugly? She'd seen the ruins it left behind. She _was_ a ruin, left in the wake of Alex's death. Had he seen things like that? She hoped so. It didn't make Maria feel any better, but it was a comfort to believe he'd seen good things before he'd died. That, just maybe, he wasn't so scared.

" . . . Find us?" Isabel was saying, and Maria opened her eyes to look at the others. Oh. They were trying to figure out how they'd been tracked down so quickly. Maria shut her eyes again, hoping they would think she was sleeping. She didn't want to go over theories right now. Didn't want to think at all. It wasn't like she had very much input to give anyway. Liz knew just as much as she did. This time, Maria was okay with allowing the others to take the reins, and she let her mind wander back to the stars, a place in her head that was distant and safe and where no amount of darkness ever managed to snuff out the light.

* * *

Michael couldn't think clearly. He was a coiled spring inside, angry and dangerously close to exploding. Maybe it was just his imagination, but he thought Maria's hand felt cold in his and he kept trying to look at her, but every few seconds his eyes would slide back over to her face, just to make sure she was still there.

Then his gaze would fall to her shirt and he'd recall the blood soaking through it and the image of her lying still on the ground, and he'd have to look away again to keep from blowing something up.

Seeing her like that . . . it was something Michael would never forget. He'd seen hurt Maria before. He'd seen grieving Maria and lonely Maria. He was very intimately acquainted with angry Maria.

But not dying Maria. Not broken Maria.

For those few seconds, he'd actually been forced to imagine a version of his life that didn't include her, which seemed impossible because she was too bullheaded to let him exclude her from it. But for those few seconds, he had tried to picture it. And he couldn't. As far as Michael was concerned, Maria had always been there. Annoying and prying and willful, with a strong right hook and eyes that forced him to look somewhere else to keep them from telling her what he didn't know how to say. He just didn't know where he stood without her there, like it disturbed some sort of balance.

Sure, Michael had been prepared to leave before graduation. To say goodbye to her indefinitely. But those were on his terms, and leaving her alive at least preserved a chance, a _maybe._ The possibility of a someday. It was worlds different than dead, which left zero chance at anything at all. Once dead, people stayed that way, and Michael couldn't think of Maria like that without wanting to shatter the van windows.

He managed to smother his emotions for the sake of their transportation until they had driven a safe distance away. Then Michael ordered Kyle to pull over in a voice that left no room for argument. The change of pace jostled Maria awake and she blinked over at Michael, eyes questioning. "What's going on?" she asked.

The sight of her didn't do him any favors and he just gave her hand a quick squeeze, already feeling the glass of the windows begin to tremble. The last thing he wanted was to blast the engine and leave them stranded out here.

"I need a minute," he said, as softly as his bursting emotions would allow. Then he let go.

He was outside before anyone could tell him otherwise. His hands shook and he carded them through his hair, as if he could tear those images from his memory. What he really wanted was someone to go after. A target. But no. All he could do was run away. That's all that any of them could do now. It made him feel like a coward. Maybe that's what he'd always been.

Michael heard him before he saw him, and made no move to turn around as even footsteps crunched at his back.

"Not now, Max," he snapped, holding a hand out as if to ward him off.

Like usual, Max ignored him. "I didn't say anything."

"Yeah, but you were thinking it." Max had that habit of thinking loud, kind of like Maria. They showed everything on their faces.

Max stopped beside Michael but was smart enough to keep his hands in his pockets. "You know what this means now," he said calmly. "About Maria."

Michael's hands curled into fists. He ground his teeth so hard his jaw ached. "How'd they know where to find us, huh?" he practically spat through his teeth. "How'd they know where we were gonna be? Got some alien powers of their own they're hiding?" Michael tried to focus his attention on the ground, but then his eyes caught on something on his jacket, just across his sleeve. A smear of blood.

Maria's blood.

Michael reacted before thinking and tore the jacket off in one vehement movement. Then he scrunched it up and launched it into the desert, wanting it as far from him as possible. It burst into a ball of blame before it hit the ground.

Max took a step towards him. His tone turned warning. "Michael"—

"I had her blood on my hands, Maxwell," Michael said through gritted teeth. He couldn't think. There was just the anger, mixed with the guilt and that tinny voice that told him this was his fault.

 _Always his fault._

"It was on my hands. I could feel her slipping away and . . ."

"And you feel responsible?" Max finished for him as he doused the flames in the distance.

Michael kept his eyes on his smoldering jacket. "She could've gone back. No one dragged her into this. She could still"—

"No I can't," Maria said, suddenly having approached without Michael's notice. His head snapped around. The headlights cast her in an eerie glow, like something ethereal and discarnate. As intangible as the smoke curling up from the desert. "Those guys knew I was shot. They saw what happened. If I go back, they're going to figure out you healed me which makes me a target. Or a potential study for any alien experimentation. Either way, I've got a big red X over my picture too, so whether you like it or not . . . I'm a part of this now."

The way she said it seemed too final. Too calm. Maddeningly calm. Michael wanted her to shout at him for once. Blame him. Anything but take it like it was all somehow _okay_.

But she didn't. And Michael felt like he was looking at a stranger. Surely the girl from a month ago would have been freaked beyond belief at all of this. That Maria would have slapped him on the shoulder. She would have cried. And it didn't strike him until now that this Maria was different, somehow. More resigned to what was happening around her. To her. As if she had never expected to stay safe for long.

As if she believed _he_ couldn't keep her safe for long.

And this was proof of that, wasn't it?

Michael stood for a moment, suddenly unsure of everything, like his own equilibrium had been unraveled. Maria didn't feel like Maria, so Earth didn't feel like home, and Michael struggled against the wrongness of it all.

So he did what he always did. He pulled away.

"Michael," Max called, but Michael ignored him.

As he passed Maria, his shoulder brushed against hers and she reached for him, but he dodged out of her grip. He looked sidelong at her, wishing for the first time since leaving Roswell that she weren't here with him, wishing above all else that she hadn't come at all. Because things were changing, and he was helpless to stop it.

"Guess you got what you wanted then," he told her.


	5. Five

**Hey, guys! Who's all still out there? I know it's been a . . . bit of a while since I've updated, but hey, I'm here! After binge reading some of my favorite Roswell fics, I got the motivation and inspiration to continue this one. Review while my motivation is present! Because I have the next chapter started as well. Plus I figure more people might be looking into the old ( _real_ ) Roswell with the new spinoff that's happening. The Maria/Michael dynamic is much more captivating to me. ******And thank you to those who have continued to review even after I neglected this fic. Your continued support has definitely encouraged me.** ****As always, please review!**

* * *

The tension in the van was stifling.

The others had tried to diffuse it with idle conversation and topic changes, but it didn't work. And when they'd finally stopped trying, they were all left with a heated silence that felt incredibly cold to Maria, who was no longer sitting in the back with a certain someone. The moment the three of them had climbed back into the van, Michael had settled for one of the window seats rather than the far back where she was now, hands in her lap, eyes pinned on the desert outside.

She tried to avoid looking at him, but every few moments her eyes would skip over to the back of his head, wishing she could read what was going on inside there. Or maybe it was better that she didn't know.

 _Guess you got what you wanted, then._

His last words spun around her head. Exactly what was that supposed to mean? It wasn't as if she'd asked to get shot. Wasn't as if she'd asked for any of this at all. Hadn't they just gone over that at the motel? Did he need it to be revisited so soon? She shook her head to herself. She'd known this would be difficult, and yet, a part of her had hoped things would be different. That her coming would've brought them all together even more. But so far, that wasn't happening, and Maria allowed herself a moment to wonder if she regretted her decision.

She didn't think so, but if there was any doubt, it was quickly doused by the tiny possibility, however small, that the bullet that had hit her would've hit Liz instead. And was there any guarantee that Max would've been able to save her best friend in time? Liz was shorter, and if the bullet had struck Maria any higher, where her heart was . . .

No, Maria did not regret coming at all.

That didn't, however, mean she wasn't unnerved by the weight of silence clinging to the interior of the van. Initially, it would've seemed almost normal. Michael was mad, as if _that_ was somehow new. But Maria understood him enough to sense when it was more than that; he wasn't just mad. This time, he was scared.

Which was why she'd let it go originally. Why the quiet had seemed to press down so much that even she didn't want to break it. Let him calm down. Cool off. But nearly four hours had passed since they'd pulled off for him, and the silence was beginning to feel like a frigid draft. He was mad, and they weren't arguing about it. That alone made her aware of the seriousness of his silence.

"What about tents?" Kyle interjected, cracking open the silence so suddenly that Maria almost jumped. She glanced over to him from where he sat in the shotgun seat, looking over his shoulder at the others.

"What about them?" Max asked.

"You know, for camping."

"I know what they're _used_ for."

"I meant for us. Then we wouldn't have to worry about motels."

In her periphery, Maria saw Isabel's grim shrug. "It might be a temporary solution, but there are other things to consider. For one, we don't have tents. Or much food left, for that matter."

"Then we hit the next rest stop and stock up before finding a nice, deserted place to stay for the night."

"I agree with Isabel," said Max diplomatically, brown eyes pausing on each of them. "It's plausible for the time being, but we can't get too comfortable avoiding towns." It didn't escape Maria's notice that his attention stopped a little longer on Michael, whose attention was still pinned on the passing world outside, as if he hadn't heard anything at all.

For all she knew, maybe he hadn't.

"Comfortable is not something I think we are in any danger of becoming," Isabel murmured with a sober sigh.

That pulled the blanket of silence taut over them again.

"So that's it?" Maria murmured, surprised at the sound of her own voice, as if she hadn't meant to speak. "We're all just gonna assume we'll be running for our lives for the _rest_ of our lives?" It was too resigned, the way everyone seemed to think that, and the last thing Maria wanted was to just write herself off to a life forever on the run. It didn't mean she preferred Roswell, but it did mean she wasn't just gonna sit back and do nothing because she was afraid.

Eyes blinked at her. Max's jaw worked, trying to find the right thing to say.

"What?" Michael asked, tone as cold as the silence had been. "Not the dream vacation you had in mind?"

Maria's attention snapped back to the alien one row ahead of her, still looking outside, like he hadn't even spoken at all. He'd said it so quietly, she probably could've pretended she hadn't heard anything.

But she had.

"What was that, Michael?"

He shook his head. "Nothing," he muttered, resuming his position as to once again become a human statue.

"Michael, if you have something to say to me, just say it."

Silence.

" _Michael?"_

He didn't turn to her. Didn't even acknowledge her.

"What, now you won't even look at me?"

Nothing.

She ground her teeth, angry and oddly very tired. Her frustration had heated that frigid draft to a lukewarm breeze.

Despite the fact that he couldn't see it, Maria held up a hand to let it go. It might've been odd that he wasn't taking the bait, but it was equally odd, she decided, that Maria chose not to push in that moment. Too tired to deal with Michael and his alien hormones, Maria leaned against her head rest and shut her eyes, ignoring the fading stars that suddenly ignited against her lids. The memory of the flashes was dulling, but they still clung to her, as if unready to let her go.

They'd all slept in the van that night. As uncomfortable as it was, Maria didn't complain. She found it actually surprised her, and some of the others for that matter, when she'd just nodded in resignation after Max had announced their sleeping situation.

Which left her in the same spot, sitting in the far back, head resting awkwardly over her rolled-up coat. Though the others still talked in hushed voices, her and Michael's silence filled the atmosphere with a different, unnatural quiet.

A couple times she glanced over at him to see if he was asleep, and again was reminded that she really couldn't tell from the back of his head.

 _Tomorrow,_ she promised herself on a yawn. _We'll figure it out tomorrow._

* * *

They didn't figure it out tomorrow.

Or the following day, for that matter.

And when the third had finally rolled around, their group preparing to head into their designated town nestled in the Centennial State, Maria's patience had begun to dissipate.

The dreams she'd experienced the last few nights were of no help, full of a screaming Liz and blown-up lights and ruby-red against a blue shirt. They left Maria feeling unrested and nearly more exhausted than she'd been before she'd gone to sleep.

Which put her in no mood to beat around _someone's_ extraterrestrial bush.

"I think I'm starting to appreciate Kyle's tent idea more and more," Isabel said, rubbing at a stiff neck.

Kyle nodded as he palmed his eye, his usually neat hair abnormally disheveled this morning. "See? I mean I like you all a lot, but just because we're trying to escape a bunch of alien hunters doesn't mean privacy has to be obsolete."

"We've already crossed State lines," said Max from the driver's seat, map spread out over the steering wheel. "Stopping for fuel only isn't enough to cut it this time. We need actual supplies, but by the look of our financial quota . . . I'd say camping is in the very near future."

"We wouldn't be low if we'd just gone straight through instead of taking a detour around the whole state," Maria said, the sound of her voice hooking the others' attention. All except Michael's, who had moved from the second row to the passenger seat, cheek resting against his knuckles as he kept his eyes elsewhere. It's as if he'd physically moved himself as far from Maria as the limited space would allow.

Though Colorado was a mere handful of hours away from Roswell, the gang had been driving for nearly sixty-four hours. The idea of a straight-shot didn't appeal to Max, and everyone had agreed it would be better to take the longer route in a vote of safety over efficiency.

The longer everyone spent in the van, however, the worse that tension had gotten, and Maria was actually almost impressed that nothing had blown up yet. Or disintegrated. Or both. It was making it much harder for her to give Michael time to process what had happened. Or maybe she'd just hoped it would be him, this time, who initiated the making-up part, if his rare display of vulnerability the other day had been any indication of maturity.

But who was she kidding?

"It's better this way," said Max. "Denver is only another twenty miles northwest. We'll stay there, then decide which city is the most ideal to start . . . well, to start again."

Maria sighed. "I still think bigger cities are better. It's easier to get lost in the crowd, unlike small towns, where anything odd is obvious."

"But smaller towns have the added benefit of being able to keep track of new people," said Kyle.

"Exactly her point," Isabel said, surprising Maria by agreeing with her. "If we move to a small town, we might as well tape a target to our foreheads. It was hard enough to stay hidden in Roswell. I'd like to try someplace a little . . . roomier."

"I like small towns," Liz replied, worrying her lip. "But under the circumstances, I think bigger sounds better."

"I agree. What about you, Michael?" asked Max, turning his head to face the other alien. "Town or city?"

"Anywhere that makes it harder to be tossed into white rooms sounds good to me," he muttered dryly. "Small towns ask questions because everyone knows everyone, and we don't need a bunch of strangers stuffing their noses in our business."

"Wow," said Maria, staring at the sliver of profile of him she was allotted from her seat. It was the most of him she'd seen all day. "And to think I was almost worried you'd forgotten how to talk, much less give a little speech."

He just shook his head.

Maria's eyes narrowed, and she yanked in an angry breath, lifting her fingers to her temples and massaging the headache that had suddenly flared. She almost let it go again. Almost let the silence win, and promise herself another tomorrow.

But tomorrows weren't hers to promise, and she was just so _tired._

"So," she started, as calmly as she could, "you'll talk to him but not to me?"

A shrug. "Just don't have anything to say."

"You not having anything to say is about as impossible as _me_ not having anything to say."

Another shrug.

Maria's hands tightened. "Oh, this is ridiculous. And it's gone on long enough, so either look at me, or just . . ."

"Just what?"

"Maria, . . ." Liz murmured, exchanging a worried glance between the alien up front and her best friend behind. Maria didn't miss the note of warning in her voice.

But Michael didn't scare Maria. Not like he once did, when she first learned what he was. She knew he was prone to tantrums that ended in shattered light bulbs and broken windows. But this was different. Quiet Michael was not normal Michael, and for a moment, she didn't know the best, most ideal way, to goad a customarily temperamental alien who now appeared to be completely calm and, worse, _impassive._

Maybe this was him trying to keep his emotions in check, and responding would uncork it all.

Maybe a part of Maria was willing to take that risk.

The rest wondered if a ruined van with blown windows and tires would be worth it.

"Fine," she stated, tone still impressively smooth. "Don't respond." She looked away from him and instead fixed her eyes on her best friend. "So, Lizzie. How long did it take you until you first noticed your Houdini tricks?"

She tried to believe she hadn't been attempting to goad him, but Max could fix any damages that happened to the van, as her words seemed to have their intended effect, because not a moment after the words had been spoken was Michael suddenly whirling around to look at her, dark eyes flashing for the first time in what felt like a very long while. "You really think it's a _joke_ , Maria?"

Maria crossed her arms, too relieved that he responded at all to balk at the stupidity of his question. "Considering that _I_ was the one who was shot less than a week ago, then no. I don't think it's a joke."

He opened his mouth as if to say more, but then snapped it shut. He turned angrily back in his seat and carded a hand through his hair, rough enough to probably take a few strands with it.

"But," Maria started, trying to keep the tenor of her voice even and actually, surprisingly, succeeding. "I _do_ want to be prepared, that way if anything weird starts happening, I can just chalk it up to my _completely normal_ alien reprocessing."

"It isn't that . . . simple," Max said gently, choosing his words with careful precision, attempting to diffuse the tension that was steadily amassing.

Maria looked at him. "Exactly what part of this _has_ been simple, Max?" she asked.

"Fair point," he conceded. "But this is hardly worth worrying about now. There's time. We'll handle it later, when it actually happens."

More silence.

"We should decide where we'll be stopping in Denver," Liz proffered, efficiently changing topics.

Max nodded. "I agree."

"Shouldn't we wait for everyone to be present until we make a group consensus?" Maria asked. "Because _some_ of us seem to be a little absent."

"Maria." This time it was Isabel, eyes holding that same warning as Liz's voice had. With a quick glance at Michael, she gave a small shake of her head.

But the last reserves of Maria's patience had begun to ebb. She wasn't sure if she was making the right decision, but she no longer exactly cared. She didn't know how to handle this kind of Michael, quiet and brooding and actually trying to _control his emotions_. She was sympathetic, but as she'd just reminded him, _she_ was the one who had nearly died, and having Michael act as if she weren't here was . . . painful.

"No," she deadpanned. "Look, I don't want to make decisions when we aren't communicating as a group. As a whole, as in _with one another._ So, Michael," she turned to him. "I'm not asking you to talk to me. Just . . . care to tell us your thoughts on this? I know you remember how to talk."

Nope. Nothing.

"Maybe just a nod? Better yet, blink twice for yes and once for no."

She couldn't even hear him breathe.

Maria shook her head, ignoring the sudden desire to cry. That tiredness seemed to weigh her down, and she was almost tempted to follow his suit; sit back down and pretend the world didn't exist.

But that didn't solve anything. And if the events of Tuesday night had taught her anything, it was that time wasn't reliable.

As of reading her mind, Max looked at each of them in turn. "Look, I know we're all under a lot of stress. The other night . . . didn't help matters. Therefore, I think we should just give each other some space. Maria"-

"Space?" she asked incredulously. "We're packed in a van, Max. The only space any of us can give is about a two foot radius, and I don't think that's going to solve anything. Not anymore."

"I meant"-

"I know you're mad," Maria said past Max, her words directed at Michael. "Scared, even. I know I am. But I just don't get why you're mad at _me_. It's not like I wanted this, Michael. I know you might think I'd have been better off if I'd just stayed in Roswell and now I've put you under all this pressure as if I'm somehow _your_ responsibility more than before. But regardless of how screwed up _that_ logic is, I'm still here. But you sitting there acting as if I'm not isn't helping any, because in case you've forgotten, I almost"— she snapped her mouth shut so suddenly her jaw ached.

 _I almost hadn't been._

She caught the abrupt tension in his shoulders and soundlessly moved from her seat. Reaching over, she gingerly touched his shoulder. "Michael, I'm sorry, I didn't"-

The reaction was much more characteristic, if not worse than normal.

Michael recoiled from her, as if her touch burned. He pulled himself out of his own seat so fast the sudden movement nearly rocked her back. He turned to face her, eyes shadowed, the muscles in his jaw feathering. "You think I forgot that?"

Maria pursed her lips. "No. I'm sorry, I just meant"—

He shook his head. "You're not sorry. You told me yourself, you felt like you didn't belong. You're calling my logic screwed up, but what about this?" he gestured towards her, and Maria could faintly make out the shaking of his hands. It was either that, or the entire van had begun to vibrate. "Acting like it's not a big deal you won't be the same? That you won't be _normal?_ When Max healed you, he changed your DNA, which means you won't be able to go home. You might never see your mom again, Maria. All that, and for what? So you could _feel_ better about being here?"

"Michael!" Isabel's voice cracked like a whip, but to Maria it felt distant. "No," she said, struggling to keep her tone cool. "I didn't want _that_! I just wanted to feel like I was with you without being dependent on you, or on anyone else!"

"And now you have no choice anymore," he snapped. "Now we're stuck with you, no matter what, is that it?"

His words were their own bullet, piercing, hitting deep, yet Maria managed to shove away her hurt. "You can play the insult game all you want, but I _know_ you, Michael, and I know you're saying that because you're angry and afraid, not because you actually mean it."

Michael glared at her through narrowed eyes, his mouth set in a hard line. "Think you knew what you were doin' when you jumped in front of Liz?"

It took Maria a moment to glean the meaning of his words, and once she did, an entirely different kind of silence descended. Even Max and Isabel didn't seem capable of response, and Maria stood there, staring at him in a suddenly relentless quiet.

Michael's lips parted, the only indication his response had surprised even himself.

And just like that, he wasn't the only one shaking with anger. "You think I did it on purpose?" Maria asked flatly.

Despite the fury in his eyes, Michael shrugged dismissively. "I don't know. But I think there's a part of you that's a little relieved it happened. I mean, now that you're part of the _club_ now. Want powers like Liz? I guess we'll just have to stay alive a couple more years and maybe you'll get a set of your very own."

"That's _enough_ , Michael," Max ground, but Maria wasn't really listening, too absorbed by the flashing eyes before her. "It wasn't _about_ having powers!" she shouted, the last of her cool gone. "It was about belonging, and not being a liability. At least now in a couple years I'll be able to _help_ , instead of feeling like I can be left behind someday without it changing anything!"

"So, what? Max was a form of insurance?"

"Of course not!" she ran a hand over the top of her head, trying to calm her suddenly rapid heartbeat. The heat of her frustration didn't seem to drown out the tiredness, but feed it. "I don't even know why I'm defending myself here. Look, you're saying I'm acting like this is a good thing, because it is, isn't it? Contrary to what _you_ might think, I did not ask for it, but it happened, and all in all it's a _good thing_."

The tires squealed, and only then was Maria aware of the quaking under her feet. Somewhere along the way Liz had stopped the van, but the shaking continued to an almost tempestuous rocking.

Max cast the two of them a look of concern."Michael"-

" _Good?"_ he hissed out, the shaking leaking into his voice, hands balled into white fists at his sides. "Exactly what part of it is good? That it'll still take years for any change to happen? That you'll be hunted like the rest of us for something that you can't use now anyway? You thought this made you less of a liability, Maria, but it just makes you _more_ of one."

Maria stared at him, her thoughts swimming before blinking out. Numbly, she shook her head.

"Michael."

He cast everyone a glower. "No, I'm not gonna say sorry for that, because you were right. Before, you could've just disappeared, and while those guys might've tried to use you to get to us, it's different now. Now, they _want_ you, which means we gotta protect you more. Think you can deal with that? Having Max or Isabel put their life on the line for you if they need to when those guys come after us again? What are you gonna do, kick 'em in the shin? Throw your oils at them? Because you won't be able to protect yourself any more than you can right now."

At the anger kindling in his eyes, words blazing, Maria's mind went blank. He was trying to be cruel, too afraid to actually respond normally. She just didn't understand exactly what he was afraid of and Maria shook her head, any argument she'd formed falling away. "Michael, just . . . stop it."

He was already on the warpath, though, and acted as if he hadn't heard her. "Or Liz. You can't leave anymore, so what happens then? Why don't you ask how it felt to have her best friend take the bullet for her? What happens if the next time it's the other way around?"

"Stop it, Michael!" Maria shouted, her voice tearing out of her. She clapped her hands over her ears and shut her eyes as if she could close herself off to his words. "Just. _Stop_ it!" She tried to push away the hurt, knowing where his words came from. But pieces didn't go. They didn't relent.

 _Why don't you ask what it was like to have her best friend take the bullet for her?_

 _What happens if the next time it's the other way around?_

She didn't care about his reasons anymore, not because they weren't justified, but because on some messed up level, . . . maybe they were.

Suddenly Maria wished she weren't here, that she were far away from the van and everyone in it. She wanted to disappear. To fold into the floor. Michael seemed to actually want her gone that in that moment, Maria wanted nothing more than to grant him his wish.

"Maria?" The word got past her fingers still pressed over her ears. She shook her head.

It took her an additional moment until she realized the rocking had stilled, leaving only a faint impression.

"Maria?" The shift in his voice was so abrupt that Maria opened her eyes long enough to find Michael staring at her as if she were a ghost.

Again, she shook her head, hands open at her sides as if waiting for the right words to fall there. They didn't. "Save it, Michael. I don't want to hear any more."

But Michael seemed to respond as if he hadn't heard her. On the contrary, he turned in his seat, head snapping from side to side as something akin to fear filled his eyes. "Wh- . . . where is she? What just . . ." His mouth opened and closed, as if unable to find the words.

Maria swung a questioning look at Liz, who met it with equal confusion. "I don't think she's going to buy that, Michael," she said, if not a little worriedly.

Michael spun on her, so suddenly the shorter girl's eyes widened a fraction. "Buy _what_? Where'd sh-where'd she go?"

Maria narrowed her eyes in scrutiny, because worry was taking its sweet little time after all that. She knew for a fact that Michael was no actor, and his authentic look of fear, make that blatant fear, was the deciding feature that started to garner _some_ of her concern. Because this was clearly indicative of losing it. She waved a hand sardonically. "I think your temper has finally fried your brain."

Her words had no effect. Michael just continued to look between the others in stunned silence, before ducking to see out the window, eyes scanning the rocky plateau around them. His gaze seemed to fall everywhere. Everywhere but on her. "Did anyone hear me? She was just"-

"Michael," Max stood as best he could in the concave space, staring at his closest friend as if he were a wounded animal. "I think you should sit down."

Michael ran a hand through his hair, eyes wild. " _Sit down?_ Max, Maria is _gone_. She"-

Instinctively, Maria reached out and touched his shoulder, her concern finally turning to fear.

At the moment of contact, his brown eyes met hers and he visibly jolted. He stood, spine pressed to the back of the front seat, staring at her in what could only have been shock. "Where did . . . What"- He cast a cursory glance at the others, as if expecting them, anyone, to supply him an answer.

The last embers of Maria's anger faded, doused by her worry over the alien. Maybe he really _had_ fried his brain. "Michael?" she asked, hesitant.

The sound of his name seemed to shock him into motion, and his hands were suddenly on her, touching her shoulders, running down the length of her arms and turning her palms up as if looking for something. Seemingly satisfied, or however satisfied a partially distraught hybrid could be, he returned his attention to her face. He stood there for a long while, eyes blankly searching hers. "Wh . . . what just happened?" he managed.

They were all staring at him. "You tell us," said Kyle. "One second you guys were having the yelling contest of the century and the next you were freaking out for no reason."

"No reason?" Michael asked in disbelief, his expression transforming into one of pure disbelief. "She just vanished! Right _in_ _front of me_! How come none of you . . .?" He let the question linger, confused himself.

If Maria was unnerved before, she was _definitely_ freaked out now. "Um . . . Michael," she said carefully. She steepled her fingers at him. "Let's reevaluate the situation. I've been here," she gestured to her spot by his seat, "the _whole_ entire time. Nobody crossed their arms and genied out of here."

She raised a hand to his forehead as memories of alien sickness suddenly shoved their way to the forefront of her mind. "Are you sure you're"—

He pulled his face away. "I'm telling you what I saw!"

"And that's that Maria disappeared," Max answered slowly, "while the rest of us could still see her?"

Michael shook his head, clearly unable to elaborate."I'm telling you she was gone."

Maria's lip curled in annoyance. "You don't need to talk to me like I'm not here," she muttered, both irate and worried, fire and ice.

Michael turned his glare on her. "Well from where I was standing, you weren't a few seconds ago."

"Says _you_." She tapped her forehead. "Maybe all your van shaking loosened a few wires up there."

" _Stop."_ At Max's tone, Maria begrudgingly ceased. She crossed her arms. It figured Michael would find a way to knock free what little sense he had left, but even she could feel the concern lining her face. She didn't know whether to be mad, worry, or scared. Maybe it was an emotional smoothie of all three.

"Maria," Max said, pulling her out of her reverie. "What were you thinking about just before Michael started . . . _claimed_ you vanished?"

Maria looked at him, his expression unreadable, and shrugged, as if a cold blanket clung to her. The tiredness wasn't helping and she pinched the bridge of her nose. Dropped it to her arm and rubbed at the goosebumps that had appeared there. "Nothing," she murmured. "Just that I wanted him to . . . stop."

"To stop? Stop talking? Stop _what_ exactly?"

Maria shrugged again. "Just to-to stop. Stop saying what he was saying and acting like he really didn't want me here. It . . ." she bit her lip, suddenly feeling very exposed.

Max's eyes softened. "It what, Maria?"

She dropped her hand and looked at Michael as she answered Max, "It made me wish that I wasn't here either, just so he'd . . . just so he'd know."

Michael stared at her, his glare gone. "You . . . ?"

Maria forced her eyes away and gave a small shake of her head. "Doesn't matter. We know what happened. Spaceboy's cracked. Was bound to happen at some point. I'm actually surprised his neurons have held on this long."

Michael scoffed. "I'm telling you, I didn't. I _know_ what I saw."

Maria didn't answer, but returned her gaze to Max, whose suddenly intense focus on her was starting to become unsettling. She shut her eyes again as a wave of tiredness swept over her and she gripped the back of Michael's chair.

When she opened her eyes again, she was still unnerved to find Max studying her. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

If abashed, Max didn't show it. Instead, Max seemed to study her more carefully. "How're you feeling, Maria?"

"This sounds like a therapy session. Shouldn't I be lying down?"

"Maria."

"I don't know! Tired, I guess?" she replied brusquely. "Who wouldn't be after dealing with . . . everything?"

"You look pale."

She pulled in a thin breath and tossed him a glare. "Look, if you're not gonna say anything _nice"_ -

"No, it's important." Max continued to study her a moment and seemed to shake an idea off. He extended a hand to her. "Take my hand for a second. I want to see something."

Maria stared at him, uncertain. "Is this some weird kind of scan thing?"

"Just trust me."

Well, that was a pretty easy request. She already trusted him, and all the more, after the other night. Maria didn't even hesitate as she slipped her palm into his.

He didn't move. Didn't close his eyes. He just held her hand for a few moments before his brows furrowed and he relinquished his gentle grip.

Maria lowered her hand.

"What?" Michael said from her left, his voice a few decimals softer than it had been, bringing that bullet down to a blunted blade. "What is it?"

"It's possible . . ." Max muttered quietly, his voice drifting off like he were having a private conversation with himself.

" _What_ is possible, Maxwell?" Asked Michael, the softness sharpening yet again.

Max blinked, as if only then realizing the five waiting pairs of eyes. His gaze found Michael's. "Remember when I said we'd worry about this later, when the time came? Well, it might be later. I think . . . Maria's powers may have manifested early."


End file.
